


Somnambulism

by SLq



Category: Pet Shop of Horrors
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLq/pseuds/SLq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon finally sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somnambulism

**Author's Note:**

> Repost.

He wakes three-thirds into the tea, one-seventh into the cake. All fractions, his whole life in fragments and half-grasped shadows – but now, he is here. A hundred percent awake.

The fingers around the cup are slim; so are the lips, poison-purple and ah-so-smug. The eyes regard him, cool, a lizard carved in the softest of marble. Draped in the most colorful of scales. The Count: a mystery without a beginning or an end, hidden neatly behind the deceptive simplicity of a single letter.

“D.”

“What is it, Detective?” the lips breathe, but the eyes remain the same – unblinking, black as any hell, any peace. Leon stares and sees, for the first time, that there was nothing there – had never been.

“D.”

The table rumbles, the tea-cup tumbles, and jasmine scents the room. Thin, golden blood – it seeps into the wood, the carpet, specks Leon’s sneakers. He doesn’t care. “D.”

“My, Detective, what _is_ the matter?” the teeth glint, glint, closer now because Leon has walked closer, leaned over, stretched a large hand. And he had been wrong, for the Count nudges his face in the caress like a kitten, lets out a growl that is almost a purr. But maybe not; the skin is velvet but cold, colder than anything he has ever touched.

“Bastard,” Leon says, curses into the cool wetness of the Count’s mouth, “Fucking shit.”

“Language, Detective,” D’s words bite – no, that is all him, small pearly teeth marking Leon’s lips with possessiveness, ferociousness. Leon pushes against him, still careful although he knows now, he _sees_ now—

“We have all the time in the world, Detective,” D laughs, low and dark and arches just so with a tiny, heartfelt moan, “All the time you could want.”

_Liar_. Leon bites the soft throat in admonition, in frustration, then in lust – and the Count thrusts and cries and _gives_.

And Leon watches it all, with eyes wide open.


End file.
